The Scientist
by ArielRiv
Summary: Luis Sera was thrilled to be working back in his hometown as a researcher, but soon, starts to become suspicious of the organization he's working for. The story of Luis Sera, pre RE4.
1. Chapter 1

They had been looking at him before he'd even known who they were.

The quiet man had claimed a small area of the restaurant, far away from prying eyes. With his nondescript clothing and appearance, eyes washed over him forgetfully. No one lingered on this stranger who had quietly been nursing beer after beer for the past ninety minutes. He had a newspaper laid out in front, and from the looks of it, he'd merely been the whole time. In fact, he hadn't done much more than skimmed a few articles with only half an eye. Ears perked, eyes carefully at the bar, he had been concentrating on one, sole person.

Luis Sera was a tall, nice-looking guy, mid twenties, with wavy, dark hair a shade too long for the man's taste, and nice clothing. He looked more like an actor than a scientist, but evidently, the young man, with a degree in biology, was as bright as they came. And friendly, the man decided; he joked with every person who he came into contact with, using wide, animated gestures.

He also seemed to like his drinks and smokes. In the time that Sera had been in the bar, he had downed three tequila shots to accompany his beer. The man had also seen him, over the course of several weeks; duck outside like clockwork to smoke like a chimney.

He clucked his tongue in disapproval as he watched Sera toss a wink to a girl across the bar. She smiled back at him, coyly, wrapping a strand of dark hair around her finger before going to whisper into her friend's ear before standing and snaking her way through the crowd to the bar. They began to talk, which gave the man a chance to quickly clean up his table and stand, dropping some money onto the tabletop. He wanted to duck out before Luis did, so he wouldn't look like he had been following him. It was nearly 10:30; the man felt very certain that another smoke break was coming up.

The outside of the opened onto a dark street; people milled in and out of the bar. The man hunkered into the shadows, right near the door, and waited. He wasn't disappointed. Five minutes later, Luis Sera followed suit, stepping out the door.

The door shut behind the Spaniard, cutting off the loud noises and music from the inside. The man was pleased to see that the new lady friend did not follow him; for the moment, at least, he and Sera were alone. Luis didn't seem to see him standing there; he grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and selected on, sticking it into the corner of his mouth while simultaneously grabbing a lighter and flicking it on. He held it up against the butt of the cigarette, taking a deep drag as the tobacco caught the flames, and breathing it out into a smoky sigh. The man let the moment of silence settle, before he stepped forward from the shadows, bringing out a cigarette of his own from his pocket.

"Excuse me?" The man's voice caused Luis to jump slightly, and turn around. The man offered a sheepish smile. "I am an _idiota_ and seemed to have dropped my lighter. I don't suppose you could spare a light, could you?"

_"Si." _Luis returned the smile warily and held out his own lighter. The man—who rarely smoked—bent forward to light the end.

_"Gracias, amigo." _

_"Mucho gusto." _Luis nodded, and turned away, resumed his vice. The man, who had never gotten a good look at the young man up so close before, discreetly examined his face, noting the first signs of a beard, and somewhat sleep-deprived looking bags beneath his eyes. Both were signs of a man who worked hard, he hoped, and took another drag, trying to appear far more casual than he felt.

"I never go to these places," He said, and gave what he hoped sounded like a self conscious chuckle. "I am too old for this kind of thing, I suppose. How you young people do it, I have no clue."

Luis smiled politely. "I don't know how we do it, either."

_"Si. _Along with your classes, you must be exhausted."

"I'm graduated, actually."

"Oh, I see. What was your major?"

"Biology."

"Oh, interesting." The man said, nodding approvingly. "As it so happens, I work in the science field, as well."

Luis turned his head to look at the stranger. "Oh?"

The man gave an off hand shrug. "I just got a new job, actually. As a supervisor for a small, independent research team. It's pretty exciting, so far, but we're still getting some kinks figured out." He paused for effect. "Scientists are both the most organized, disorganized human beings."

Luis actually laughed, his baritone cutting the quiet of the night. "I couldn't agree more. What field do you work in?"

The man threw the rest of his cigarette down, and stepped on the butt with the toe of his boot. He was getting close. "Parasitology."

"Nice. I've always been fascinated by parasitology. What sort of work do you do?"

"Just some superficial stuff at the moment. Nothing terrible interesting; looking at parasites, seeing their reactions to various hosts, figuring out what makes them tick." He slid a glance at Luis. "No pun intended."

"Found anything interesting yet, with them?"

"Lots. Fascinating specimens. These are historical ones we are researching. Ones that could unlock a lot of the past for us. We, in the science world, thought they were dead for a number of years. With any luck, they unlock a lot of our past for us, and give us some answers for the future."

"Where is it that you work, exactly?"

"A little town. Doubt you've heard of it. It's called Pueblo."

Luis shot the man a startled look, and then a genuine smile lit up his light eyes. "No kidding! Small world…I'm from there!"

The man managed a surprised look. "Are you, now?"

"_Si. _Born and raised. Small world."

"What a coincidence!" The man appraised Luis' appearance. "With no offence to your upbringing, you certainly don't _dress_ like you're a farmer."

Luis smiled sheepishly. "I'm not, and never thought I would be. I loved growing up there, but I always knew I wanted to live in the city." He gave a short laugh. "I gave it a try for the first eighteen years of my life."

"Does your family still live there?"

"No…" His gaze dropped, and he, too, dropped the remainder of his cigarette. "My parents died when I was very young, and my grandfather raised me and my brother. He died two years ago. My brother is in school to be a veterinarian, so he doesn't live there, either."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It's a quaint town."

"Yeah." A wistful smile. "It is. I haven't been there in years."

"Well…" The man paused, and withdrew a small card from his pocket. "If you every find yourself in that area, look me up. We don't normally let non-employees into the lab, but I think you'd genuinely find our work interesting. Also," He handed Luis the card. "It _is _your town."

"Thank you. That's a very generous offer."

"Absolutely, _amigo." _He glanced at his watch. "I'm afraid that I must be going to meet someone. It was a pleasure meeting you…"

"Luis." He said quickly. "Sera."

"I'm Arturo Riviera." He offered his hand, and Luis grasped it in a firm handshake. He could already see the Spaniard's gears working in his head. He smiled warmly. "It was nice talking to you. Come stop by sometime."

# # #

The man made sure he was far enough away until he discreetly slipped into a dark alleyway, ears perked for noises of anyone else near. Nothing. He slunk against a building, and pulled out his phone, rapidly dialing a number from memory. It rang once, twice, before a heavily accented voice answered.

"I found him." The man said.

"You are sure he is the grandson?"

"_Si. _I think he will contact us on his own. If not, I will be more persuasive in the future."

There was a pause on the other end. The man heard breathing, and a cluck of approval. "Well done. We depend on you to do this."

With that, the line was disconnected. Satisfied, the man pocketed his phone, and disappeared down the street.


	2. Chapter 2

Luis stumbled home shortly after twelve back to his small apartment in Madrid. He didn't even bother removing his shoes as he collapsed onto his bed, and stared woozily up at the ceiling, chastising himself for having drunken two more beers.

_Mierda, this is gonna suck in the morning._

Or, technically, today.

He couldn't help himself; that stranger had stirred more strange feelings for him than he would have liked to have admitted. The prospect of returning home…he didn't _hate_ Pueblo, by any means, but ever since his _abuelo _ had died, he hadn't found that there was anything there for him. Even Mateo, well into his second year at his University, had expressed displeasure at the prospect of going back.

_"We don't have anything to _do _there, _hermano. _Let's let it lie. We're so much happier in our own lives."_

_ Was _he, though? Luis, fully aware that this sudden psychoanalysis was completely alcohol driven, still sat up, and pushed his hair back fro out of his eyes, and squinted, as though it would help him think better.

Here he was, twenty seven, theoretically in the midst of the best years of his life, and on the cusp of the kind of adulthood where he was truly his own person; no more student nonsense; he paid for his own way. He was a big boy. He had a steady job testing pharmaceutical products downtown.

_No, no, no. _He quickly corrected himself. _You hate working there! You feel wasted. Tired. You're not even thirty, but feel double that on a good day._

_Ay, yi, yi. _He cursed softly under his breath as the headache started to latch on, a subtle throbbing beneath his temple. He grasped his head with one hand, and with his other hand, pushed himself off of his bed, wishing he had let the bartender talk him in to drinking more water in between drinks.

He wandered into his kitchen, skipping the lights, and poured himself a glass of water; downed it; drank a second. The kitchen, as with many bachelors, held very little in the way of food; some browning bananas in a blue bowl; some boxes of opened cereal. Even the plates and mugs were mismatched. Idly, Luis sat down at the small, formica table and lighting another cigarette, taking a puff before letting his hunched shoulders relax. Ahh…much better. Appreciatively, he tilted his head back, and let the smoke drift off from his face, watching it unfurl and disperse as it drifted towards the ceiling.

The card was still in his back pocket. He took it out, and lay it in front of him on the table, examining it with a clearer head.

**Arturo Riviera**

**Researcher/Scientist**

Just a number. No e-mail, or fax. And then, beneath that.

**Los Iluminados**

**Home of our redemption and servitude.**

Los Iluminados? Was that the name of the people Arturo did his research for? It almost sounded more like…a religious sect, of some sort. He could have sworn that it was a name he had never heard of before, but it still nagged at his memory. He couldn't place it, and even if he could, not with this impending hangover. He glanced at the clock on the wall, deemed the hour not too late, and went back into his room where he sat on his bed, and dialed on his cell phone. It rang almost five times before someone answered.

"_Hola?"_

"_Hola, hermano!" _Luis winced at the brightness of his own words, which grated into his ears like a jack hammer.

"Luis?" Mateo sounded comically surprised. "What the hell are you doing sober on a Friday?"

"It's Saturday, technically."

"Same thing."

"Why are _you _home?" Luis rebutted, feeling himself smile. He hadn't talked to Mateo in too long, and it felt good.

"I'm a student. I need to study, and shit. We don't all have the easy life."

Luis snorted. "Right. I forgot how hard it is to live off of the school. With a cafeteria. And housekeepers in the dorms."

"_Lo mismo."_

"And free toilet paper."

"Ok, ok, I get it."

"Guess what." He went on, without anymore preamble. "I ran into this guy—he's a researcher—and you'll never guess where his work is stationed at."

"Where?"

"Pueblo."

"Pueblo?" Mateo sounded dubious. "Why _Pueblo?"_

"Dunno."

"Of all the fucking places." Mateo chuckled. "Why in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere?"

"Isn't that crazy?"

"Small world." Mateo agreed.

"He gave me his card, and invited me to check it out if I was ever in the area—"

"As if." Mateo interrupted.

"—all the card gave me was his name, number, and something called the _Los Iluminados._" He paused, waited for a reaction from Mateo. "Does that sound familiar to you, at all?"

"No…wait…actually…why _does _it sound familiar?"

Luis exhaled. "I thought I was going crazy. It sounded familiar to me, too."

"I have no idea where, though." Luis could practically see his little brother screwing up his face in concentration. "Weird. Did you, like, look it up on the internet?"

"Not yet…" Luis stood up, his body suddenly charged with restlessness. "I just thought I'd call and see if you knew anymore than I did."

"_No sé"_

"_Maldita sea." _Luis cursed. "Well, thanks anyways. How are classes going?"

"_Bueno."_

They chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up, Luis feeling no more enlightened than he had before. Following his brother's advice, he booted up his laptop, sleep long-vanished from his mind, and plugged in the name on the search engine. Within moments, various articles popped up, none, of which, had any relevance to Pueblo or, as far as Luis saw, anything having to do with research projects currently going on in the area.

Next, he typed in the name Arturo Riviera. More articles, these, he saw with some relief, connecting the name to the man he had met at the bar. With interest, he read of the scientist's achievements, both in the field, as well as from his years as a student, back in the seventies. He had led many research teams in the fields of archeology and biology, exhuming fossils in the area, as well as his work with a museum, located in Madrid, not too far from where Luis lived. He seemed, at a cursory glance, like a well-documented scientist, and lived the life that Luis had foreseen himself leading shortly after graduation. Before his grandfather died, and money became so much more important than aspiring, internship positions and the prospects of a mayhaps job after a few years.

He shut off the computer, sighing at the late hour, thankful that he wasn't called in work in the morning as his sleepiness started to seep back on. Placing the card on his nightstand, he stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed. Staring at the ceiling for a bit, he once more, unsuccessfully, tried to place where it was he heard the name Los Iluminado, but nothing in his conciseness surrounded the answer. Instead, his mind began to drift back to a little village where he had spent most of his life. The flickering images of his grandfather's house were still with him when he finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

He barely even registered the fact that he was planning a weekend getaway without even considering "no" for an answer.


	3. Chapter 3

_His _abuelo_ had shown him the passageways._

_ Antonio Sera had been his hero growing up. Before his parents had passed away, or Mateo had even been born, Luis visited the small village every summer, where the sounds of Madrid where he and his parents lived would be lost and nearly forgotten in the quiet sanctuary of the Southern woods of Spain. There, Luis spent his days hunting, whittling, or helping his grandfather with the farming, all the while listening to the old man tell him stories of his youth in the area, or weave magnificent tales of the strange creatures that lived in the thickets of the trees (Luis realized only later on that the stories had successfully stopped him from sneaking off to the woods in the night which, he supposed, had been the task all along.)_

_ His favorite thing to do, however, was explore the secret tunnels within the village that his grandfather claimed was known to only a handful who loved there._

_ "I forget where all of them lead to." Antonio Sera had admitted to him, when he was only six. "They were built by the very first Castellans of the village, hundreds and hundreds of years ago."_

_ Luis knew that Salazars were the Castellan family; a royal and wealthy family who lived in the big castle, overlooking the village._

_ "Supposedly," Antonio's voice had dropped theatrically, his lined blue eyes twinkling with mischievousness. "Some of the tunnels lead to under and inside the castle itself."_

_ Young Luis's own blue eyes—exactly alike his grandfather's—had grown wide. "Where?" He breathed with excitement._

_"I do not know, _niño. _Some of the passageways have been blocked by the Salazar family, or else, so well hidden, that even I cannot find them."_

_ "Why does no one else know about them?"_

_ "Because, Luis, our ancestors were once advisors to the Salazar family, when the village was first settled here. That's right; our family goes all the way to back then, here. My father told me about the passageways, as his father had told him, and so forth." He had smiled warmly at his grandson, and gave his dark hair an affectionate ruffle. "And now, I am telling you."_

_ "And I'll tell my son! But no one else!" Luis sang out, his small head still racing with merriment at the thought of his very own, grown-up secret._

_ "_Si. _Remember, you must keep it a secret. It's a tradition. Do you know what that means?"_

_ Luis shook his head, feeling a pang of disappointment for not knowing._

_ "It means," The old man said patiently. "A custom that gets passed down from generation to generation. Do you understand that?"_

_ "I think so."_

_ "_Buen chico." _Another head ruffle. Luis relished the feeling of his grandfather's calloused, strong hands that seemed capable of doing anything, whether shooting a bird from hundreds of feet away, to being able to carve effortlessly from a stick a beautiful snake with delicate features. He looked at his own hands that were small and dirty from digging for worms to use as fishing bait. He hoped he would have his grandfather's hands someday. _

_ "Why are the passageways a secret?" He suddenly asked._

_ His _abuelo _had moved over to the stove where stew was cooking, and although Luis could only see his back, he thought he saw him freeze for a second, as though trying to think of a suitable answer. Slowly, with great deliberation, he spoke as he prodded the flames in the fireplace with a stick. "I do not want to frighten you, Luis."_

_ "I won't be!" The little boy cried out. "I promise! I'm real brave! Please?"_

_ "You will overthink it." His grandfather said, with all of the patience in the world. "When you are older, I will tell you, but until then, you must remember that there is nothing down there that can hurt you." His tone was odd, as though he were implying that nothing down there could hurt anyone _anymore_, but Luis, knowing when a battle was lost, did not press the subject, content with learning the secret when he was older._

_ Unfortunately, his grandfather died before Luis could remember to ask, again._


End file.
